by EMILIE ROSE
Bella didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t accustomed to being this useless. How was she supposed to make him feel better? Dragging him back into bed and trying to make him forget all his worries with sex seemed insensitive to say the least.
“You must think I’m the worst,” Kyle said finally, letting out a wry laugh that sent shards of guilt stabbing through her, “telling you all this when I’ve never told anyone.”
“Not even your family? What about the police?”
“You think they’d believe me?” He shook his head.
“But if you were drugged...and you’ve got a bum knee.” She winced. Wrong thing to say. Definitely the wrong thing to say.
He gave a snort. “Yeah. ’Cause they’ll really go for that story. My dad didn’t even believe I had an injury. He thought I was faking it right up to the day he died—kept insisting I try all these radical therapies to make my knee better, but he didn’t get that all I wanted was to stop....”
Meu Deus. All Bella could think to say was, “I’m sorry.” It was the only platitude she had to offer. Weak. Insincere sounding.
“No, I’m sorry. This wasn’t the way this night was supposed to go,” Kyle said casually, almost by rote. He scoffed. “I might as well tell you you’re not the first girl I’ve left in this state. They all thought I was just a doped-up loser who couldn’t get it up.”
Jokes. That was his shield. He used humor to hide his suffering. And all those pretty young things he went around with, all of them petite and nonthreatening and easy to abandon—they were all part of the facade. The playboy still playing his game as if nothing was wrong.
Part of her still couldn’t believe big, bad Kyle had gone through this trauma. She was still expecting him to turn around and say, “Gotcha!” It seemed like a Kyle thing to do. He’d fought with her, got in her space, avoided her, played her white knight, shied away from her. They’d never been able to get out of each other’s way—it’d only been a matter of time before they’d crashed headlong into one another. And now here they were, naked and unfulfilled and completely exposed.
“This is why you don’t sleep well, isn’t it?”
He exhaled, his whole body sagging. “It’s hard to fall asleep when every creak sounds like someone in your house.”
* * *
HADRIAN STUDIED THE final photos of Bella Fiore for the special edition UFF Brawl magazine and hummed in approval, her smoky, sexy eyes beckoning the reader to Buy me! It wouldn’t hurt sales if she showed a little more skin, though—maybe he could get the art team to make her shorts smaller.
Mrs. H. knocked on the door frame. “Quinn called again,” she said, handing him a message slip. “She really wants to talk to you.”
“Not now.” He’d been giving her a taste of her own medicine since the last time she’d ditched their plans to chase a story. Quinn hadn’t even come to the gala after everything he’d done to get her on the VIP guest list. He’d even booked a limo and a personal stylist to help her get ready. But she’d blown him off to cover some press conference about a retiring baseball player in New York.
His P.A. frowned. “You can’t keep putting her off.”
“Of course I can. I’m busy with work, too, you know.” He spotted another slip clutched in her hands. “What’s that?”
“He won’t stop calling,” The uncharacteristic worry in Mrs. Hutzenbiler’s voice made Hadrian sit up tall. “He insists on talking to you.”
“He, who? A lot of people want to talk to me.”
“Fulvio Fiore.”
Oh. Him. He stalled. “I’m surprised, Mrs. H. I’ve heard you yell at heavyweight fighters without blinking. Fulvio Fiore’s in his seventies. Don’t tell me an old man is scaring you.”
She gave him a narrowed look. “He threatened to come and speak to you in person if you don’t take his call.”
Hadrian sighed. Fiores didn’t bluff.
He picked up the phone and hit the line. “Fulvio, how are you?”
“Don’t you ask me how I am! How could you do this to my family?”
Hadrian swung around in his chair to face the window as Mrs. H. departed and quietly shut the door behind her. “If you mean sign Bella on with the UFF—”
“Caralho!” On the other end of the line, something slammed down hard. “She is not capable and not ready.”
“Now, hold up a minute. I think you underestimate her.” He didn’t appreciate being yelled at by anyone, not when it came to his business. “I’ve seen her fight and she’s good. Better than good. She’s star material.” He picked up the photo again. Definitely a good choice.
“Only because you can’t find anyone better. I know you called three other women before you called Bella. How stupid do you think I am?”
He closed his eyes. Of course. Fiore-trained BJJ teachers were scattered across the globe. Some of them would have dutifully reported Hadrian’s call to their old master. In the world of MMA, everyone talked. You couldn’t stub a toe without someone on the other side of the world hearing about it. “Bella wasn’t my fourth pick. She’s my first. They all were. I’d sign them all on if they came to me now. The others simply didn’t want to step into the cage with such short notice.”
“No, they don’t want to fight Kamikaze Kamino, you bastard. How can you put my granddaughter up against that maniac?”
“Ayumi’s not a monster, Fulvio—her methods are just a bit unorthodox. Anyway, this is business. Bella’s signed. She wants to fight. You can’t stop her.”
As the terse silence on the other end of the line stretched on, Hadrian pictured them standing in an arena, Fulvio dressed as a bull, while he waved a red cape at him. “You leave me no choice. If you don’t cancel this fight, I will cancel Fiore sponsorship of all UFF events.”
He ground his teeth. The Fiore BJJ School provided a good chunk of cash to the organization and the Starlight Foundation. But all kinds of sponsors had recently been stepping up to get their logos on the first ever UFF women’s match.
It was only money, he thought.
Hadrian hated antagonizing the head of one of the most influential MMA families around, but as far as he was concerned, Fulvio was an old man whose hold on his family was slipping. He was an aging lion unwilling to turn his pride over to the younger generation.
“I’m not canceling this match,” Hadrian said firmly. “The show is sold out. The media loves Bella, and the world will, too. She’s going to make history. Why can’t you accept that?”
“Women do not belong in the cage. You said so yourself.”
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.”
Silence, and then Fulvio said, “You will regret this.”
Hadrian smiled at the photo of Bella. “I don’t think I will.” And he hung up.
* * *
BELLA STOOPED OVER the sewer grate and vomited up her breakfast smoothie, gasping for breath, heart pounding.
“You have to stop.” Kyle stood by, watching impassively. “Let’s walk it off back to the gym.”
“I’m good,” she insisted as she rinsed her mouth and spit. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Let’s keep going.”
“No.” His firm tone told her he would not be argued with. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard ever since we got back from Vegas. That’s the second time you’ve thrown up in four days. You’re going to hurt yourself. You’ve got to know your limits.”
“I know my limits. I haven’t reached them yet,” she snapped irritably. “I ate too much is all.”
He frowned. “You sticking to your diet?”
“Of course.” It was that or subsist on the dozens of vitamin pills and powdered drinks the dietician had recommended. She couldn’t stand the thought of not eating real food. Though currently, most of her meals consisted of water and raw fruit and vegetables,
much of it in smoothie form mixed with numerous supplements.
“C’mon. We’re going to walk, and then you’re going to rest.”
Sullenly, Bella followed. She knew part of her bad mood was simply the sugar withdrawal talking. She was used to having carbs and lots of meat, and they’d been cut out. The other part of her mood was because of the man who plodded ahead of her.
They hadn’t talked about that night at the hotel. She’d lain awake after he’d gone back to his room, trying to figure out what it was she was supposed to do and what she wanted. They’d boarded the plane together the next day and remained silent the whole flight. Maybe it was for the best. Bella had had no idea what to say. She couldn’t afford to get tangled up with his issues and distract herself from the fight. But she couldn’t ignore what she’d learned, either, because she now saw his pain in every little interaction, every breath he took.
When their eyes met, she saw the shame and vulnerability beneath his lopsided smiles. She noticed the way he tensed when women approached him. His arm’s-length relationships with the rest of the Payette’s crew suddenly made a lot more sense, too. They didn’t know the truth. He didn’t want them to know—didn’t want them to get close enough to realize Karla had changed him. She couldn’t blame him. She could picture the guys’ reactions—ridicule, disbelief, disgust. Some of them actually believed he’d invited trouble with his womanizing. Hadn’t she thought the same in the back of her mind?
It made her all the more adamant to help him. Of course, she had her own reasons—and she knew it was selfish of her to still want Kyle in her bed. But it was less about sex now than it was about comfort and reassurance. She wanted him to heal. She wanted him to stop being afraid. She wanted to be the one to help him.
She wanted to be worthy of helping him.
She glanced at him as they walked. He looked lost in thought. She could practically see the flashes of darkness in his eyes. Her gaze slid past him, and she noticed the sign on the building across the street. The adobe facade was painted dark orange, but much of the plaster was chipping. A few young men and a couple of girls stood outside, propping up the wall and smoking. One of the boys in a dark hoodie hollered, “Kyle!” and waved.
“I didn’t realize the Touchstone youth center was here. Isn’t that one of our students?”
“Yeah.” Kyle seemed to hesitate at first, but then they crossed the street together.
“Hey, man, how’s it going?” the young man greeted.
“Jerome. It’s been a while.” They shook hands and clapped each other on the back, surprising Bella. Jerome was one of the guys who came in for the self-defense class. He’d shown a lot of promise. After introducing his friends, he acknowledged Bella with a bob of his head. “Miss Bella. I hear you’re going to be fighting in the UFF. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. Have you heard from Shawnese at all?” She felt bad that she hadn’t made time to visit the young woman, though they’d talked on the phone. Last she’d heard, she was still staying with Reta.
“Shawnese? Nah, she left a couple of weeks back. I’m not sure where to.” He grimaced. “It’s a shame, but you know how it is. Things are tough. She’s gotta figure them out on her own.”
Bella’s consternation grew. Where would she go? What if Andre found her again? What if she went back to her old habits?
“Won’t be so tough for her now though, eh?” One of the other guys snickered. “Jerome told us all about you, Mr. Peters.”
“Badass,” another chimed in with a respectful nod.
Kyle smiled grimly, rubbing the back of his neck. Bella stared. Slowly, she asked, “What did you do?”
“He didn’t tell you?” Jerome’s eyes widened, and he laughed. “This upstanding gentleman waited around out here for days to see if Andre would show up. When he finally did, Kyle told him to step off and leave Shawnese alone. Andre got up in his business and makes to, like, pull a knife or something. Then this monster—” he pointed at Kyle “—grabs the guy and tosses him to the ground, like, three times.”
The guys laughed as Jerome mimed the scene. “Boom! On his side. Boom! On his back. Third time, this guy’s bored, and Andre’s still trying to get his knife out, stumbling around like a drunk. So Kyle grabs his wrist, twists him around, and I swear to God, flips him over onto his knee and spanks his ass, then drops him on his face and says, ‘Stay.’”
The rest of the guys howled with laughter while Kyle shuffled his feet, abashed.
“He deserved it, man,” Jerome said, wiping tears away as he shook Kyle’s hand and gave him a fist bump. “This guy’s okay.”
“Kyle, that’s assault!” Bella hissed.
“That’s justice, ma’am,” one of Jerome’s friends said somberly. “Andre won’t show his face around here again. Guy was nothing but a punk. He’s too chicken shit to take on someone his own size.”
“You guys have plans for the holidays?” Kyle asked, eager to change the subject.
“Plans? You mean Christmas trees and presents?” Jerome’s grin dimmed. “We’ll probably be here.” He cocked his head at the building. “They do turkey dinner. We get some stockings. It’s all right.”
Kyle nodded. “Well, I’ll be in town. If you need a place to go, give me a call and come down to the gym.” He handed Jerome a business card. “I appreciate you letting me hang with you guys.”
“Hey, it was worth seeing Andre schooled.” Jerome waved as they departed.
“And exactly when did this all happen?” Bella asked him as soon as they were out of earshot.
Kyle kept his gaze straight ahead. “I went after work and on weekends. I was there for less than two weeks. I just hung around outside—nothing illegal about that. Reta told me Andre comes in sometimes and that she couldn’t legally do anything about it if he didn’t bother anyone.” He lifted a shoulder carelessly. “I figured I’d wait him out, make sure he understood what the deal was. Let him know Shawnese has friends.”
“Kyle, do you have any idea how stupid and dangerous that was?” Her chest hurt, but she wasn’t sure if it was because she was mad, sad or exhilarated. Maybe this was his way of dealing with his own pain—by helping others who couldn’t help themselves. Even so, she couldn’t condone this macho behavior. “Did you think you were being noble or something? What if he’d had a gun? Or friends?”
“I took all the proper precautions. I told Jerome and his boys not to get involved except to call the cops if things went south. Anyhow, Jerome’s one of the best students in the self-defense class. He doesn’t lose his head. He’s a really good guy. I trusted him to watch my back, and he did.”
“You shouldn’t have involved him at all. You both could’ve been seriously hurt. What if Andre comes after you looking for revenge? What if he presses charges?”
“C’mon, Bella. You think a known pimp is going to go to the cops? You and I both know Shawnese will never press charges. And Andre won’t leave her alone unless he knows she’s got someone on her side. Guys like him prey on vulnerable women. He had to learn she wasn’t his punching bag anymore. If you’d heard the way he talked about her, trust me, you would’ve done the same thing.”
“No, I wouldn’t, because I don’t take the law into my own hands. He could’ve stabbed you.”
“Ain’t nothin’ but a thang,” he said in an affected accent.
She halted midstride. “Are you seriously making a joke about this? Stop pretending that you’re invincible, like you have to prove to the world you’re a freaking superman. You aren’t, okay? And there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to go around rescuing damsels in distress and waving your fists around to prove you’re a man.” Tears rushed to her eyes and she dashed them away angrily.
Kyle’s cheekbones stood out like blades, and a vein pulsed at his temple. “You think I’m trying to prove something? What about you
? You’ve been running yourself sick and working yourself into exhaustion when I’ve explicitly told you not to. You’ve fought me every step of the way since I met you, Bella. What do you have to prove?”
She should have shouted it, but it barely came out a whisper. “Everything.” She was suddenly bone tired. She sagged and leaned against a post. “That’s what you don’t get. I have everything to prove because people out there are always going to judge me. You? You had your moment—you got three of them. But that time’s over now, Kyle. You have to let go. You’re human like the rest of us. The things that have happened to you since—”
He turned and walked away from her, from her words. She bolted after him. “That messed up everything for you—I know,” she yelled, and he quickened his pace to a jog. “You think being a man means keeping all your pain and problems to yourself, but it doesn’t. You think you can control everything in your life? You can’t.”
He slowed as they reached a small park. He stumbled and doubled over, gasping as he clutched his bad knee. Bella’s breath sawed in and out of her lungs and her blood pumped hard through her temples, but it wasn’t from running. “That’s why you went after Andre, isn’t it? You’re trying to redeem yourself or something.”
He straightened and started walking. His limp was much more pronounced now. He paced back toward her in a tight circle, his features set like concrete.
“I helped Shawnese because she needed help. Because I could. Because no one else was going to step up for her.” Despite the angry lines wreathing his face, all she wanted to do was brush her hand along his jaw and soothe his fury.
“Tell me something, Kyle. You like helping defenseless young women. Are you man enough to let them help you back?” She was sick of being kept at arm’s length. They were more than friends. More than coach and trainee. Dammit, she was going to help him whether he wanted her help or not.
Kyle stared at the sky and let out a breath. “I should never have said anything to you.”
